<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Who I Am by lucianowriter</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27811207">Who I Am</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucianowriter/pseuds/lucianowriter'>lucianowriter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, Reunions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:08:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,773</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27811207</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucianowriter/pseuds/lucianowriter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles is returned from The Wild Hunt his memories don't return with him. He is thrust back into his life without a clue as to who he is or why these people like him. The key to his memories just might be a werewolf named Derek Hale -- someone his best friend Scott says doesn't play well with others. </p>
<p>Can Stiles let these feelings he has under the surface make an appearance or will he just continue to hurt those around him with his choices?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Who I Am</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I started writing this fic three whole years ago. I would write some, take some time off, and then come back to it. This fic has seen me through so many ups and downs over the years. To be honest, this fic is my baby and the one Teen Wolf fic I am especially proud of. </p>
<p>I hope that you enjoy this concept as much as I enjoyed creating and writing it. Stiles will always own my heart and I feel his story deserved a bit more fleshing out there toward the end of the series.</p>
<p>Happy Reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Stiles is in his bedroom looking through his yearbooks when Scott comes over for a visit. Scott is a ball of energy and excitement today, like normal. He immediately starts rattling off about some guy coming to town. But Stiles only half-listens, because he can’t follow the names.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s been six weeks and still, nothing has surfaced about his old life. The Wild Hunt was over. Stiles may have gotten out, but where and who he is remains a mystery. Like it’s not his life but someone else’s. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles just wants to live and not have the constant cloud of the unknown weighing on him. Scott is trying to not pressure him. However, each disappointing look Stiles gets when he doesn’t remember something, is harder and harder to take.  Stiles continues to remember nothing. He has stopped trying to live in the past and instead focuses on making a future for himself. If his friends would let him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His father, the Sheriff, is probably the only person in his life who isn’t pressuring him to be THE Stiles Stilinski. It’s the biggest relief knowing he doesn’t have to put on a face for him. Stiles can try and sort everything out without the looming cloud over his head. That being said, Stiles still feels pressure because it is his father. While nowhere is truly free of the ghost of Stiles Stilinski at least his home is less frustrating. He’s grateful for any breaks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Especially because Stiles doesn’t even remember Lydia. He can imagine that this whole situation isn’t the least bit fair to her. She fought all that time to get back the guy she loves but never told, only to have him not know who she is. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe it would be easier if Stiles could look at her and feel something, anything. To him now, Lydia was just another girl who was whip-smart and unafraid to tell you so. Stiles could see himself being best friends with her. But dating?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t even remember his mother, who apparently died when he was younger. A death that, according to Scott, changed his whole life. Stiles can’t even begin to imagine how rough her death must have been if he carried guilt about it every day. He would think that a death that huge would’ve left a mark on his psyche, even when nothing else did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He half tunes back into the one-sided conversation with Scott, who is still going on about some guy in a weird, mythic kinda way.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you gay?” Stiles butts in so suddenly that Scott stops cold.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?!” Scott sputters, his eyes bugging out of his head. “Why would you think that?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s just you came bounding in here rambling on about some guy coming back to town,” Stiles explains. “You are talking so reverently about him that I thought maybe he’s your boyfriend.” This whole not knowing anyone is starting to really frustrate him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean Derek?!” Scott starts to laugh.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s so funny?” Stiles looks at the guy who is supposed to be his best friend. He knew Scott wasn’t pressuring him but, the pressure to know things were still weighing on him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know Derek. He would never…” Scott stops after a moment, realizing his slip up. Stiles didn’t know Derek anymore.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t sweat it.” Stiles tries to save the conversation. “I’m sure once I see this Derek everything will make sense. I’ll understand why dating you is a laughing matter.” He hates feeling like a constant failure. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stiles, give it time.” Scott’s general optimistic spirit causes Stiles to shake his head. “Something is bound to trigger a memory. Have you tried kissing Lydia?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What, like true love's kiss will bring everything back? I don’t know dude. I doubt she’s my true love.” Stiles shrugs and plops down on his bed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not your true love?! Stiles! You guys have this epic story of you rising through the ranks and winning her over. How is that not true love?” Scott looks at him incredulously from his spot on Stiles’ desk chair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I look at her, I talk to her and I feel nothing. She’s fun and all, but I just don’t see it.” Stiles shrugs again turning back to his yearbook.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe kiss Malia?” Scott is trying so hard. Stiles knows it’s because he misses his best friend, but it sucks for Stiles either way. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not going around kissing strange girls.” Stiles hopes this will drop the subject of his memory entirely. “This isn’t exactly a fairy tale.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They aren’t strange girls. They’re Malia and Lydia.” Scott cries out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“To me, they’re two girls I don’t know,” Stiles replies pointedly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess so.” Scott gets up and heads for the door, having realized defeat. “Well, I better go. I just came by to tell you about Derek coming back. Take care buddy.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A few days later Sheriff Stilinski pulls up to drop Stiles off at the McCall house. Stiles stares at the house that is supposedly his second home. He wishes he recognized even one window in the place. Realizing just how much he won’t know by going inside makes Stiles not want to even go in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe I should just stay at home.” Stiles turns to his father with clear unease on his face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stiles,” Sheriff Stilinski sighs, “hiding out from your old life won't help you remember. And staying inside isn’t really good for you.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s just it Dad! I can’t remember and everyone expects me to. You know how much pressure that puts on me? I keep letting everyone down. I’d rather sit at home away from all the expectations.” Stiles slumps down in his seat and falls silent.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re your friends. They don’t expect anything from you.” His dad smiles at him, a little sad smile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then why do their faces fall every time I don’t know something?”  Stiles gives his dad a pointed look, he knows that the Sheriff can’t argue against that logic.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just go for an hour. That’s all I ask. I would hate for you to regret it.” Sheriff Stilinski pats Stiles on the shoulder before giving him a gentle nudge towards opening the door. “Think about it as making new friends.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles rolls his eyes before climbing out of the car. He slams the door in frustration. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The minute Stiles enters Scott’s house everyone there goes silent. Stiles looks around and sees all the faces of people he’s supposed to know well but doesn’t. Faces that will end up disappointed by the end of the hour. One of the faces, the one in the back corner, is unfamiliar to Stiles entirely. At least everyone else has a face Stiles has seen enough, since coming back, to become familiar to him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>However, this face, hidden slightly in shadow, is one Stiles has never seen before. At least not to his knowledge.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s about time princess arrives.” The guy in the corner growls out, clearly annoyed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What crawled up Mr. Grumperson’s ass and died?” Stiles reacts without thinking. It just irritates him that the Stiles this person knows warrants such a reaction.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What, no Sourwolf?” Grumpy Guy in the corner steps forward into the light.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That’s when Stiles stops. There before him stands the most gorgeous man he has ever laid eyes on. From his chiseled cheekbones to his perfectly proportioned facial hair to his bulging biceps that are just perfect; not too big. Everything about this man screams desire for Stiles. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“S-sourwolf?” Stiles chokes out in confusion.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s what you call me. One part grumpy. One part werewolf.” The man smirks as he watches Stiles’ eyes bulge out of his head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait! Hold up! You mean to tell me that werewolves are a real thing? That it’s not something made up for entertainment?” Stiles cries out in excitement, completely in the moment. “Dude! Why didn’t you say so, Scott?!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Scott, as taken aback by Stiles’ behavior as anyone, just shrugs. “I mean, I keep saying Pack. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It is the unfamiliar face that actually speaks up.“Hold on. What the hell happened to Beacon Hills while I was away?” He turns to Scott and bores his gaze into him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s what we were trying to say before he showed up. The Wild Hunt messed with Stiles’ memory. He doesn’t know who he is or anyone else for that matter.” Scott rubs his hand along the backside of his head and laughs uneasily.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh. That’s unexpected.” The gorgeous guy turns and looks Stiles up and down with new eyes. There is a slight twinkle of amusement in them. “Hi, I’m Derek.” He holds his hand out to Stiles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He-hello.” Stiles stammers before turning around and running out of the room. It’s all just too much to handle.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles finds himself in a hallway that ends in a set of stairs going up. He decides to go up them. No harm, no foul. At the top of the stairs, he finds a shorter hallway with three doors. One is open, the bathroom. Another is closed tight, and the third is open slightly. The third one leads to a bedroom that clearly must belong to Scott.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The room has a mess of bedsheets on the floor and a slew of lacrosse gear. Stiles assumes it’s lacrosse due to the lacrosse stick laying amongst the clothes. There is an underlying sweat stench. It makes Stiles feel oddly comforted like it’s familiar to him. It’s the weirdest thought ever. Stiles doesn’t remember anything specifically, and yet this is familiar.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He slowly enters the room and crosses to the mirror over the desk. Along the sides are a variety of pictures. There is one of Scott and Stiles, both in uniform, from after a lacrosse game. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Huh. I must play lacrosse.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He glances over at an older photograph, one from Scott’s childhood. This time Scott is with two older women and a little boy who could be Stiles. The two women must be their moms. Stiles looks at the one who must be his mom. (He has seen Melissa McCall recently so he knows which one she is.) </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A pang of sadness washed over him. How could he look at this woman and not know who she is? How could he have forgotten his own mother? Scott says she was his best friend growing up, but she’s nothing but a stranger to him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He starts to cry. Stiles takes the photo and crosses over to Scott’s bed and sits down. He doesn’t even hear Derek when he walks in. In fact, Stiles doesn’t even notice him until he finally looks up from the photo.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. I was just trying to get away from all the pressure down there.” Stiles clambers to wipe his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look I’m only going to say this once. If you repeat it, I’ll deny that I even said it.” Derek steps closer to Stiles but still keeps his distance. “Don’t bother with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>old</span>
  </em>
  <span> Stiles. He will come back when the time is right. Just live the life you do know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why would you deny giving good advice.” Stiles sniffs, glancing into Derek’s eyes for the first time. The beauty and compassion found in them suck the air right out of Stiles’ chest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t know this, but the Derek Hale they know doesn’t talk much or give advice.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Guess that means I’m lucky,” Stiles replies, barely above a whisper. The two guys look at each other; unblinking. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Derek says; clearing his throat and turning back towards the door. “There’s pizza downstairs to eat.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell them I’ll be down in a minute. I, uh, just…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Take your time. I’ll save you a piece.” Derek gives a small smile before walking out of the room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles sits on Scott’s bed for a bit longer. The feeling of calm and ease that he’d felt while Derek had been in the room was gone. Stiles just wanted it back. Placing the picture back on the mirror, Stiles decides he may as well go get pizza.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When he arrives downstairs his anxiety hits into overdrive. He sees everyone sitting around the living room, laughing and joking. Just knowing that joining them will make him feel out of place has Stiles sneaking towards the back door. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He has just opened the door when a hand reaches out and pushes it closed. Stiles drags his eyes up the arm until he rests on a bulging bicep.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Derek.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles turns until they are facing each other. In Derek’s other hand sits a huge slice of pepperoni on a paper plate. Stiles finds the anxiety from a moment ago slowly disappearing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on. I saved the last one. Are you really gonna let a perfectly good piece of pizza go to waste?” Derek steps back from the door and nods his head towards the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles looks from the piece of pizza to Derek’s slightly raised eyebrow and smirk.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What no birds and squirrels?” Stiles attempts some humor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you’re confusing us with dogs.” Derek follows Stiles to the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, so no belly rubs?” Stiles laughs as he shoves half the piece of pizza into his mouth at once.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You sure you wanna find out?” Derek growls, but with a slight smile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ease settles between them. Stiles feels like a person for the first time since escaping the Wild Hunt; like maybe he could actually be someone. He likes who he is around Derek. When the pressure to perform is gone, Stiles actually recognizes who he is. Not the Stiles everyone wants him to be, but the Stiles he is now. The Stiles who just wants to enjoy the last few months of high school. The Stiles who gets excited about myths and legends not realizing that some of them are true.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Derek Hale is a breath of fresh air. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stiles! You’re here!” Lydia comes bounding into the kitchen. Just like that Stiles feels his chest tighten and the unease settle back in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lydia flings her arm around Stiles’ shoulder and leans into his ear to whisper.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Scott thinks we should kiss. That it’ll awake your memory.” Lydia’s breath smells of cheese and pineapple. Not an appealing combination.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles looks to Derek, hoping he will have an escape for him. Unfortunately, Derek turns his head away. Stiles is alone to deal with this new problem.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lydia comes around in front of Stiles, grabbing his face. She leans forward and desperately latches her lips to his. Stiles knows it’s coming and yet he is still caught off guard. He throws his hands up and struggles to put some distance between him and Lydia. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The longer her lips latch on his, the stronger the weight on his chest is. Stiles can’t breathe. He finds himself swimming in limbo. With a final push, Stiles manages to disengage himself from Lydia. The minute he can catch his breath Stiles bolts.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The voices and noises around him have become muffled and garbled. He can’t discern one from the next. All he knows is he needs to find the front door and get out. He stumbles for a bit before arms wrap themselves around him, stopping him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stiles. Stop. It’s ok.” Derek’s voice is calm and quiet in his ear. It’s the one thing that manages to come through.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With Derek’s chest rising and falling behind him Stiles finds his heart slowing down to match it. His breaths start to steady out and everything else starts to focus more. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I-I should go.” Stiles pulls away from Derek and reaches for the door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stiles.” The concern in Derek’s voice is palpable. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine. I just need to be alone.” Stiles forces a smile and walks out the door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As he walks down the drive he can hear Derek’s anger as he lays into Scott and Lydia. It’s nice to hear Derek sticking up for his…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His what? His honor? His personhood?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Whatever the reason, it’s nice knowing that someone he doesn’t even remember cares enough about him to defend him. For the first time, since coming back, Stiles sees a person who really does care about his well being. There is no underlying motive for Derek’s actions. He just wants Stiles to feel comfortable in his own skin. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Here is a person who clearly had a connection to Stiles in his past life, and yet he expects nothing. Derek doesn’t want him to remember. He just wants him to live and be </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His father was right. Even with all the crazy, unnecessary stress that had surfaced at Scott’s house, Stiles didn’t entirely hate his time there. He learned a lot about himself. The biggest thing being he has major anxiety issues. That panic attack had been an experience he didn’t want to repeat. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He needed to avoid Scott and his friends for a while. It seemed the only way he could prevent any more attacks. The pressure was too great. Despite what his father thinks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If Stiles ever hopes to get his memories back he needs to give his brain a rest. Lessening the triggers for sporting a mask seems like the perfect place to start. He needs to surround himself with positive energy. Something that only happens around 2-3 people. It’s going to be hard for Scott to accept it, this he knows. However, in the long run, it’ll be best for all parties.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles arrives home. He walks up to his room and collapses on the bed. He is exhausted. The events of the day had been tiring and hard. Within minutes Stiles is asleep.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles takes a deep breath before getting out of his Jeep. He checks his phone one more time.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>From: Derek 12:35</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Sure come over. My address is 2 Ridgeview Road.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Now that he was sitting in front of Derek’s address he didn’t have the nerve. What if going inside would just be a letdown? What if he finds that the comfort around Derek was just a one-time thing?</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Suddenly there is a tap on his window. Stiles jumps and turns to see Derek standing there. Stiles holds up a finger before turning off his Jeep and climbing out.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I thought I’d come check on you. I heard your heartbeat starting to panic. I was worried.” Derek mumbles the last part so low that Stiles almost misses it. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Yeah. No. I was panicking a bit about this being a mistake.” Stiles nervously plays with his hair. “Wait.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“What?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“You heard my heartbeat? Who does that?!” Stiles stares at Derek incredulously.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Derek stops and starts so many times Stiles worries that he made the guy short circuit.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I keep forgetting that you don’t know the ins and outs of werewolves anymore.” Derek finally manages to speak. “Not that you need to know. I just need to remember that certain things can freak you out.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Woah. Woah. Slow down, big guy.” Stiles places his hand on Derek’s shoulder. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The two of them look from Stiles’ hand placement to each other’s eyes. Stiles feels his mouth dry; he licks his lips wondering if Derek is going to kiss him.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Derek finally tears his eyes away and steps back.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I just don’t want to make you feel out of place.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“You don’t. Trust me. You, acting like I know what you mean helps me feel better. Don’t change that.” Stiles gives Derek a soft arm squeeze, “Can I use your bathroom? Sorry. I just suddenly have to go.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Uh. Sure. It’s right upstairs.” Derek awkwardly turns and leads the way towards his apartment.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>As they walk Stiles silently kicks himself for making it awkward. Asking to use the bathroom? So not cool. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They soon enter the building and reach Derek’s top floor loft. Why does the shadiness of it all turn Stiles on so much?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Derek slides open his door and silently leads Stiles inside. Ok, shouldn’t Stiles be running right about now? This is all kinds of serial killer no-no. However, something inside Stiles tells him to trust the situation; to stay put.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Bathroom is through there to the left.” Derek points to a doorway on the far wall. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Oddly enough Stiles realizes he doesn’t really need directions. It’s like he knows where he’s going even though he doesn’t consciously remember. It’s starting to weird him out a bit, but he shakes it off.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When he comes back from the bathroom he finds Derek cooking. Watching the man’s smooth movements around the kitchen builds up his admiration of him. Stiles feels a smile creep onto his face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, can you grab the oil for me from the cabinet?” Derek throws over his shoulder, not even looking at Stiles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles crosses the room. There are a good dozen cabinets to choose from. Despite this, Stiles feels like the cabinet right next to the fridge is the correct one. It’s like he’s running on instinct, much like when he walked to the bathroom just now. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles doesn’t know where this knowledge is coming from, but he chooses to go with it instead of fighting it. When he opens the cabinet the olive oil is sitting front and center. Stiles grabs it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If Derek wonders how Stiles knew which cabinet to look in he doesn’t say. For that Stiles’ gratitude grows. Stiles knew that he didn’t make a bad choice when he decided to spend more time with the surly werewolf.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, what exactly are you cooking?” Stiles finally breaks the silence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a recipe my mother used to always make. Chicken and rice. I add my own twist with broccoli. She would always make it for me whenever I was having a bad day. It made me feel warm and complete.” Derek’s voice gets all misty with memory and reverence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles realizes he likes this side of Derek. The soft, loving side. It doesn’t escape Stiles’ notice that he is one of a select few who get to witness this Derek.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Grab that and help me with the chicken, please.” Derek breaks the awkward silence between them. The demand isn’t harsh, it is gentle. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles doesn’t say anything. Instead, he grabs the spatula. The knowledge of what to do and when takes over and Stiles just lets it. He finds himself adding seasonings to the chicken without a second thought. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For the next fifteen minutes, they continue their movements in comfortable silence. It’s in this silence that Stiles hears Derek whistling softly under his breath. A smile creeps over Stiles’ face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When they’ve finally plated their food and sat down, Stiles gets up the nerve to speak.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You knew.” His words come out in a whisper.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Derek pauses, his fork halfway to his mouth. “Knew what?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t play dumb. That’s my role.” Stiles replies. He stares at his plate of food; waiting for Derek’s response.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stiles. You aren’t dumb.” Derek puts his plate aside and reaches his hand to touch Stiles’ knee.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I was kidding.” Stiles jumps up and finally looks at Derek. “Can we focus please?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to scare you.” Derek’s words come out sad and a bit distant.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Derek, I’m the least freaked when I’m with you. Please don’t hold out on me.” Stiles’ tone is gentle.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t want to say anything that would make you feel even more foreign in your own skin. You deserve to discover things for yourself.” Derek answers Stiles’ initial inquiry with a gentle tone that doesn’t quite fit what Stiles has heard about the werewolf.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps it was time Stiles ignore others’ ideas and form his own. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles settles back and smiles to himself. He greatly appreciates all that Derek continues to do for him. He never pushes. With Derek, Stiles can discover. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I ask you a question about myself?” Stiles breaks their companionable silence, once he finished eating. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had moved from the couch back to the kitchen. For some unknown reason, he wanted to put some space between him and Derek before asking his question. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not sure if I can answer, but ok.” Derek stands up and starts walking towards the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles moves again, trying to formulate his words. “My mom. What happened?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think it’s better if you ask your dad that question.” Derek deftly evades.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m asking you.” Stiles pushes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know much. I only know what I’ve heard from pack meetings and such. We weren’t exactly close, Stiles.” Derek starts, he seeks out Stiles’ eyes. “You were a kid. It was a long illness. You and your dad took it hard. Scott once said your anxiety stems from it.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A silence falls between them. Stiles doesn’t really know what he expected Derek to say. He feels that Derek’s answer is more than expectations allow.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stiles, look at me.” Derek reaches out and turns Stiles’ face towards him. “Take it from someone who’s lost everything. Forgetting isn’t half bad. The knowing is way more painful.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles looks into Derek’s eyes. For the first time, he sees his pain. Part of Stiles really wants to know what pain Derek suffered, but looking at him now he knows it’s not the time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I just feel so frustrated all the time. She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>my mom</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I should know her! It’s not about the pain, it’s about her.” Stiles steps around Derek. Despite all that Derek has done for him, Stiles still feels Derek doesn’t fully understand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You think I don’t understand,” Derek whispers, giving Stiles his mental and physical space.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How could you? You know who you are.” Stiles yells out in frustration.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“About a year ago I didn’t.” Derek leans on the edge of the counter, watching Stiles’ reaction.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?!” Stiles stops cold and turns so fast he almost falls over.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A bit of magic reverted me to 15. I didn’t know anything about my family’s fate, because in my 15-year-old mind they were still alive. It’s not the same, but just as frustrating.” Derek’s voice gets quieter as he goes along.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The pair fall silent. Stiles plops himself on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Derek moves around the kitchen cleaning up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles secretly watches the older man. He can’t figure him out. Derek says they weren’t close yet he knows things about Stiles. Intimate things. Things, it seems, he’s never acknowledged knowing before. This whole time Stiles has felt like the mystery in his life is himself. In reality, Derek and his connection to Stiles is the bigger mystery.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The pair spends the afternoon watching movies together. During the third movie, Stiles finds himself drifting closer and closer to Derek’s warmth. So much so that he falls asleep on Derek’s shoulder and doesn’t know how he ended up there. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When he wakes up he finds Derek hasn’t moved. The older man sits there letting Stiles drool on his shirt. Stretching as he pulls his body away from Derek’s warmth, Stiles notices Derek is typing away on his laptop. Stiles peaks over at the screen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Kitsune? What the heck is that?” Stiles breaks his silence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Derek moves to close his laptop. He stretches his arms above his head and groans.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you sleep ok?” Concern laces his voice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles doesn’t answer right away. He’s trying to get control of his raging hormones at seeing a glimpse of Derek’s stomach. The defined abs and trail of course dark hair leading beyond the top of his pants puts Stiles into lust-a-palooza. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>To clear his mind, Stiles turns and stares out the wall of windows behind them. Seeing the darkness and moon causes him to jump up and gather his shoes. (When had he taken those off?) </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I should get home. I don’t want my dad to worry.” Stiles quickly shoots out as he rushes to the door. “Thanks again, for this.” Stiles’ arms sweep the room to signal he means everything.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Derek doesn’t respond. He just watches Stiles leave, his mind clearly still in a daze based on his facial expression. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles has a last fleeting thought of staying and explaining to Derek. If only he knew how to explain it. His feelings right now were messy and confusing. Plus, he’s pretty sure there’s a reason Derek and he wasn’t ever friends before now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A few days later Stiles was hanging out with his dad as the elder worked on a case from home. Stiles had tried convincing the Sheriff he didn’t have to work from home. However, after Stiles woke up from another terrible nightmare, his third this week, the Sheriff didn’t want to leave him alone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Since I can’t convince you to go to work can I at least gain </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> from your presence?” Stiles sits down on a chair near his father’s desk in the study.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Besides my winning personality and charm?” Sheriff Stilinski glances sideways at his son.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s noticed a slight change in him since that day at Scott’s. Stiles is definitely less frustrated these days. He’s more prone to smiling and leaving the house. Stilinski doesn’t question it out of fear Stiles will revert.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“As wonderful as they are, yes besides that.” Stiles rolls his eyes and smiles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok. Shoot.” The Sheriff puts aside his case files and gives Stiles his full attention.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened to the Hales?” Stiles blurts out before looking away nervously.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” Sheriff Stilinski is more than willing to answer any question his son had about his own life, but someone else’s? That is dangerous ground. Especially since that someone else is Derek “protect my secrets” Hale.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You should really ask him. Maybe do it the right way this time.” The Sheriff places a soft hand on Stiles’ shoulder reassuringly. “Any other questions about </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’d be more than happy to help.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A silence falls between the two. Stiles doesn’t know how to approach his father about all the thoughts swirling in his head. So he sits and watches his father pour-over arrest reports and case files. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you working on?” Stiles’ curiosity finally gets the better of him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The usual Beacon County stuff.” His father’s answer is vague and slightly infuriating. After a beat he continues with, “some things never change.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Father and son share a look. Stiles thinks he is referencing the ‘usual Beacon County stuff’ when he’s actually referencing Stiles himself. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it supernatural? Maybe Derek could help.” Stiles leans forward to try and catch a glimpse, but the Sheriff snatches the report away. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> A look passes over Sheriff Stilinski’s face at Stiles’ comment. At first, Stiles doesn’t notice because he’s too busy trying to grasp the report. When he finally does look at his father he is confused.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Stiles stops his frenzied movements and stares back at his father.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing.” The Sheriff quickly recovers and scrambles to hide his own confused look. He mumbles something under his breath in continuation, not looking at his son.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on Dad! I can only trust a handful of people to be completely honest with me and you are one of them. You haven’t held back the truth about me yet, please don’t start.” Stiles’ plea hits Stilinski right in his heart and he can’t hold back anymore.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine. I was simply curious about your connection with Derek. That’s all.” Stilinski looks softly towards his son. He doesn’t want his words to ruin the recent progress Stiles has made.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We hang out. Why? Should we not be?” Stiles’ demeanor suddenly becomes guarded; as if he is waiting for the other shoe to drop and ruin his happiness.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No! I am just surprised is all. In the past, you could barely stand each other. But that could’ve just been the symptom of knowing about him.” Sheriff Stilinski gives his son a compassionate look. One that is filled with love and understanding.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What aren’t you telling me? Did he kill someone? He’s a murderer isn’t he?!” Stiles finds his thoughts jumping around a mile a minute. This part about him excites him. It means he thinks about every possible outcome before making any decision. He can also see how this overthinking could be a nuisance too.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Trust me. It’s better to just ask Derek. The last time you stuck your nose in instead of just asking and he got upset.” The Sheriff tells his son, trying to bring his focus back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok. Thanks, dad!” Stiles jumps up and rushes out of the room. “See you after school.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stilinski chuckles and shakes his head. He knew his son was only going to school, after having asked to stay home today, so he could ask someone other than Derek. No matter what, his son would never change his core qualities. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles watches Scott and Liam from a distance. He wants to approach Scott, but the memory of what happened the last time they hung out gives him pause. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s actually about to turn towards his first class, resigned to try again later when Scott calls out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Stiles. It’s good to see you. How are you?” It’s evident from his tone and body language that he doesn’t really know what to say.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m good. Been focusing on myself; in the now instead of the past.” Stiles shuffles his feet and refuses to make eye contact.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Derek mentioned you needed space.” Scott tentatively reaches his hand out to gently touch Stiles’ shoulder. “I’m truly sorry. My mom ripped me a new one when she found out what I had done.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s no biggie. Your intentions were good. I just can’t be around the pack for a while. Too much pressure. I hope that’s ok.” Stiles finally looks up and meets his best friend’s gaze.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If you need anything. I’m here.” Scott replies it’s his way of extending an olive branch and respecting Stiles’ wishes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks. Actually, you might be able to help me with something.” Stiles decides it’s all or nothing. He needs to take the plunge.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Anything! I got your back man. Bros for life.” Scott’s mood immediately picks up and changes drastically. “Need help remembering something?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not exactly. I mean it is a memory but, it’s not mine. It’s Derek’s.” Stiles shuffles his feet again. He’s not really sure why he’s so nervous. Scott is his best friend; the one person least likely to judge him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” Scott’s face falls and he takes a step back. “I don’t know man. Derek is really closed off. It’s best you directly ask him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s what my dad said. I just figured you wouldn’t care. Being my best friend and all.” Stiles hopes that mentioning their bond will get the result he’s aiming for. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I would, but this…” Scott stalls as he searches the air around him for the right words. “This messes with pack dynamics. I may be an Alpha but in some ways Derek still is. I can’t mess up the peace that’s settled between us lately.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok. Never mind. It’s no big deal.” Stiles shrugs away his disappointment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, man. I would do anything for you, but I can’t do this. Sorry.” The regret is palpable in both Scott’s words and his face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles shakes away his sadness and looks to Scott with a big smile. “Seriously no worries. I just gotta man up and ask Derek.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Derek may be closed off, but something tells me he would tell you. He’s changed since coming back.” Scott slaps his friend on the back and steers them towards their first class: Biology.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles’ day at school went as smoothly as he could’ve anticipated. He even found himself knowingly going through the motions in his classes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Like in calculus. He listened as the teacher lectured and found that he could actually follow. Somewhere in the depths of his memory were the answers he needed to fully grasp everything being taught. He may not know how he knows these things, but he does know them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>To Stiles, this feels like a mini-victory. He can’t wait to shout about it on the rooftop. He’s remembering things from his past. Sure, it’s only academic things but progress is progress. Plus he did know where certain spices were in Derek’s loft without being told. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All these little things were adding up. He was beginning to feel a bit more alive.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Earth to Stiles.” a familiar female voice calls out, roping Stiles back into math class.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Lydia?” Stiles doesn’t know where she came from and why she is speaking to him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Class is over. The bell rang.” Lydia sighs and rolls her eyes at him before moving towards the door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait!” Stiles quickly gathers up his things and follows her, “I never apologized for how I acted at Scott’s after you kissed me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t need to apologize. It should be me. I should have known better than to let Scott McCall manipulate me into doing anything. I was desperate. We all are. Sorry.” Lydia stops just outside the door and gives Stiles a strong look of apology.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I take it Scott isn’t a reliable source for anything.” Stiles tries his best to make conversation. Simply talking with people was something he wanted to do, but the pressure to perform has stopped him in the past. Not anymore. He is turning over a new leaf.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not that. He’s just very enthusiastic and naive in how he handles anything really. Which has its moments of good and bad.” Lydia admits honestly. She isn’t usually this openly honest, but she knows any form of dishonesty isn’t good for Stiles. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I see.” Stiles gets quiet. He has another question for Lydia on the tip of his tongue but he’s slightly afraid of the answer he will get. “Can I ask you something else?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course! Anytime. I’ll always answer as honestly as possible.” Lydia brightens up and Stiles can see the excitement of feeling needed in her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I get this feeling in the back of my brain that we meant something more than friends to each other. I feel like I know you deeper than anyone. But I’m still not sure what it is I know.” Stiles unloads, realizing afterward that no actual question was asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I could answer but I feel like maybe that answer would influence your feelings about me.” Lydia stalls. Stiles can tell just from her uneasy body language that there </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>something between them at some point but, possibly not anymore. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What about Derek?” Stiles ventures cautiously.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What about him?” Lydia responds, clearly not connecting the dots between Stiles’ questions.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve been spending time with him and something tells me that the camaraderie we have currently is a new thing.” Stiles walks alongside Lydia as they both head towards the courtyard. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s because it is. Derek isn’t exactly the hangout type. He usually makes himself available for pack issues, but nothing else.” Lydia sets her bag down and daintily sits next to it on the bench.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He mentioned to me that he understood what I am going through. Maybe that’s why.” Stiles plops down on the grass.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm. Maybe.” Lydia has a knowing look in her eye. In fact, it’s oddly similar to the one his father gave him earlier. As if they know something they aren’t saying.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The pair sit silently in the warm spring sun for a few minutes. A part of Stiles feels like he shouldn’t love the silence as much as he does. As if the silence should be making him uneasy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, Kira is hosting a small, and I mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>small</span>
  </em>
  <span>, get together tonight. If you feel up to it you should come.” Lydia mutters softly before returning to silence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Looking at her now, Stiles loves the way the sun shines off her skin. It makes her look ethereal. It’s not an admiration like that of his for Derek. Derek’s is definitely more lustful. Lydia’s is simple and pure. Like a friend admiring another friend.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll think about it. I have to talk to Derek before I make any definite plans.” Stiles finally responds after realizing an awkward silence had settled.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What is he your scheduling agent?” Lydia scoffs. Her face has a weird look on it. One that Stiles doesn’t know how to read.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I just mean that I don’t know how long the talk is going to be. With him, it’s hard to gauge just how forthcoming he’s going to be.” Stiles sputters in an attempt to defend Derek; though he’s not entirely sure why. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mhm.” Lydia tuts and gives Stiles a knowing look. It’s as if she’s had this kind of interaction, about Derek, with him before. Either that or she’s just scarily intuitive.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles is always happy to spend time with the older man. Mostly because of how comfortable in his own skin he made him feel, but also because Derek is actually fun.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s clear to Stiles that most of his “friends” don’t really know what he calls the “real Derek.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just going to pretend you weren’t all judgy just now and treat this like a normal conversation.” Stiles gives Lydia a meaningful raise of the eyebrow before continuing, “Like you are happy for me finding some form of comfort.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not that I’m not happy, Stiles. It’s that you’ve been through this before. Pining after a grouchy werewolf you can’t have.” Lydia places a gentle, loving hand on his shoulder in a show of concern.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I may not remember before, but I feel like this is different. I feel that before Derek and I didn’t really talk, we mostly fought. This time he tells me things about himself. He opens up.” Stiles rallies back defensively.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lydia throws up her hands in defeat and ends with, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when this ends badly.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles is outside Derek’s loft building pacing. He wants nothing more than to walk inside and head straight up to the man’s loft. However, Lydia’s words from earlier haunt his thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He may not know much about who he is but he does know that everyone </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinks</span>
  </em>
  <span> they know him. Sure they know a version of him, but that’s not who he is anymore. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Since his version of being is different now wouldn’t that mean his relationships would be too? Stiles truly believes that he has a cordial relationship with Derek because he doesn’t have ingrained prejudices and knowledge holding him back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Whatever Derek did or had happen to him is the past. He will ask him once and if Derek doesn’t want to talk about it then Stiles will drop it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Derek is the one person, currently in his life, making him happy. If being pushy will taint that in any way Stiles isn’t willing to risk it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With that, Stiles walks to the entrance and goes inside.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Derek finally opens his door it’s with a look of annoyance. However, the minute his eyes settle on Stiles that annoyance starts to fade.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s got you looking like you’re about to pop fangs and fur?” Stiles states as he walks in and plops down on the couch.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Peter,” Derek mutters under his breath. He grabs a couple of waters from the fridge before joining Stiles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait! I know this one. He’s your uncle. My dad says he went crazy for a bit a couple years ago but now he’s fine.” Stiles turns on the couch to face Derek on the opposite end.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If fine is continuing to pester me about werewolf relations and my shortcomings then yes that’s accurate,” Derek replies, his tone tells Stiles he’d rather not talk about it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So I know you’d rather not talk about family, but there’s something I want to know. You can absolutely refuse to answer if you want. I’d completely understand.” Stiles segues poorly and then starts to ramble.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No. It’s ok.” Derek looks up from his hands and Stiles sees a little spark in his eyes. A spark he’s noticed comes out every time they talk.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” Stiles is timid due to the fine line he’s walking.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Stiles! Just ask.” Derek’s annoyed tone comes out, but there’s a hint of playful behind it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You mentioned a while ago that when you became a teen again you didn’t know of your family’s fate. What did you mean?” Stiles fiddles with his fingers out of nerves. He can’t even make eye contact with Derek.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Derek doesn’t immediately respond, Stiles looks up. He is met with a look of confused surprise on Derek’s face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Stiles looks down at himself, thinking maybe it’s something about him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s just you’ve never really asked me about this directly before,” Derek responds softly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I got the impression of that from what my dad said to me. I’m sorry that last time I didn’t ask you before snooping.” Stiles moves closer to Derek in a show of genuine apology.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine. It’s in the past. You’ve changed.” Derek gives him a small smile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Some people want me to be who I was. I end up feeling like the new me isn’t enough.” Stiles tries explaining, but halfway through he just gives up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stiles. Just be you as you know it. The change in you is neither good nor bad. It just is.” Derek moves ever so slightly away from his proximity to Stiles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles watches Derek in silence. He perceives that Derek is uncomfortable with how he’s been put on the spot. Maybe it’s best he just changes the subject. Stiles turns away from Derek to find something else to talk about.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Lydia invited me to a get together at Kira’s tonight. I’m not sure I’m gonna go though.” Stiles suddenly remembers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not? I thought you said you wanted to try spending more time with the pack.” If Derek is confused by the sudden change of course he doesn’t let on in any way.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I do, but then I get anxious just thinking about the last hangout I went to,” Stiles explains, looking directly at Derek hoping the older man will calm his fears.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell you what. I’ll go with you and the minute things get hairy we will leave.” Derek grabs Stiles’ hand to transfer his sincerity to the young man.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know. Things getting a bit hairy sounds fun to me.” Stiles gives Derek a wicked grin before jumping up from the couch. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s moments like these where I’m reminded of why I didn’t use to hang out with you,” Derek mutters lowly, on the cusp of a growl. “Immature little child.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now now. We’re saving the hairy situation for the shindig.” Stiles continues to goad Derek.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stiles.” Derek’s voice is stern and a clear warning sign. Stiles catches on and immediately stops his behavior.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles strides around the loft in silence. He knows he's pushed Derek a bit far with his teasing. He wants to reel him back in to not ruin their bond.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He stops at a book on Derek’s shelf. Something about the book stirs up a feeling of love and fondness. It’s as if someone just out of reach loved that book too. Stiles grabs it from the shelf.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He begins to feel its worn cover and pages. His fingers run over the frayed edges of the cover. Each page is soft from age and lots of movement. There is a smell to the book. It’s a pleasant mixture of water damage and lilacs. Turning a few pages reveals a bunch of lilacs nestled in the pages.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles is so wrapped up in the book he doesn’t hear Derek approach him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The Secret Garden. One of my sister’s favorites.” Derek whispers just inches from Stiles’ back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel like someone I know loved this book too. Though I don’t know it for sure, I am almost certain it was my mom.” Stiles responds in a quiet, reserved voice. He’s still examining the book.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sometimes I take that book off the shelf and thumb through it. Doing that makes me feel like Laura is still alive. She comforts me from the pages of her book.” Derek places his hand on the side of Stiles's head, cupping it as he moves away to give the teen space.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t remember my mom, but I sometimes get this feeling that she’s around. Like she’s calling me from all these different things. Simple things like the tea kettle in our kitchen or the porch swing out back.” Stiles slowly walks from the shelf back to the couch and Derek. He doesn’t look up until he has finished speaking.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know what you mean. I get a feeling about my own mother whenever I’m cooking a dish she taught me. Or when I hear her favorite song on the radio. When I’m out at the preserve I always feel my father, he loved nature and the trees. When we lose people we loved they still come back to us in pieces.” Derek grabs Stiles’ hand once more and squeezes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The two sit there in silence. They’re both mulling over what was said between them. It’s the deepest, most soul-bearing either of them has ever been. They survived it and came out the other side. Neither of them ran away scared. They stayed. In silence, holding one another’s hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want to go to Kira’s,” Stiles mutters softly after some time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then don’t,” Derek replies softly, moving his fingers in Stiles's hand to trace shapes on the skin.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What? No fight this time?” Stiles turns his body slightly, making sure not to separate their hands. “Why not?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want you to feel anxious about an event that should be positive. Clearly, you aren’t ready.” Derek doesn’t look at Stiles, instead, he bites his lip.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A silence falls between them again. This time it’s a little less comfortable; slightly awkward.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Every once in a while Stiles feels Derek’s gaze on him, but when he turns to return it the older man has already gone back to his original position. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The air between them starts to crackle with what can only be described as sexual tension. Derek pulls his hand out of Stiles’ but the teen can still feel it and the wolf’s body heat. Stiles is itching to move and close the distance between them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The only thing holding him back is the insecurity that doing so would fuck everything up. Then everything changes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Derek leans over and hastily puts his lips onto Stiles’. The soft yet firm feel of his lips on Stiles’ awakens something inside him. It’s like the Stiles that had been forgotten and trapped in the recesses of his mind escapes and Stiles is overwhelmed by repressed love for the man before him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Before the kiss can continue for much longer than a few seconds Stiles jumps back and runs away. He doesn’t stop long enough to even say goodbye to Derek. All these new to him emotions scare him and he needs space. Being near Derek while also feeling all that sucks the air out of his chest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles climbs up into his Jeep and slams the door shut. Then, chest heaving with each breath, he yells and slams his fists onto the steering wheel. Things had been going so well for him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Why did Derek have to fuck it up? But didn’t he actually want that to happen too?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Even if he wanted the kiss to happen that doesn’t mean he really wanted it right now. Now he feels pressure to achieve some level of performance for Derek too. That is something he really can’t handle. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Guess it’s back to hiding in his room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It has been a week since Stiles ran from Derek. At that time he has only left his house to go to school. After all, they were in the last days of senior year. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles wants to see Derek, but anytime he even tries to call Derek his anxiety flares up. He feels his mouth go dry and ends up hanging up before Derek can even answer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, he drives out to Derek’s loft late at night to sit in the lot and watch. He’s sure that Derek can hear him there, but he never calls him out on his stalker-like behavior.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So Stiles continues. He sits in the lot for hours each night. Sometimes he only stays a little while because he sees Derek leave. He doesn’t follow Derek because that is crossing the very vague line between what he is doing and being an actual stalker.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The morning of his last day of school starts with a gentle nudge from his father. Stiles opens his eyes to find the Sheriff in full uniform, sitting on the edge of his bed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The elder Stilinski looks very sad. It’s not his slightly downturned mouth, but his eyes that tell Stiles all he needs to know.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Morning son. Ready for the last day?” Sheriff Stilinski greets with a smile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles rolls into his pillow and groans. He would rather stay in bed and avoid life entirely. However, he knows, from the experience of his last few months, that his father isn’t about to allow that to happen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess. I know finishing high school is some big thing but does that still apply if you don’t know the people who are proud of you?” Stiles finally responds, still not moving from his spot under the covers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course it does! You know me, or at least well enough to trust me. Your mom, even though you don’t know it, she would be so proud of you too.” his father leans over and gently strokes his hand across Stiles’ cheek before getting up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Dad.” Stiles sits up, curious to finally talk about his mom. He’d been avoiding it up til now because he didn’t want to hear all these things he should feel sad about when he didn’t know how to feel.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Sheriff stops and slowly turns back. “Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you think mom would say to me today if she was here?” Stiles’ voice comes out smaller than he initially expected.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She would tell you she loves you and how proud of you she is.” The Sheriff pauses at the door and thinks for a spell before adding, “You could go visit her. Maybe that’ll help you to see her better.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Stiles mutters in a whisper, no longer looking at his father. He isn’t sure how visible his doubt is and he doesn’t want to disappoint him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After his father leaves, Stiles finds it in him to get dressed for the day. He thinks that maybe today he will actually talk to Derek again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They need to get past what happened. Stiles misses the calm being around him exudes. Since their kiss, Stiles has been walking around an anxious ball of nerves; liable to explode at any moment. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s so determined to see Derek that he decides to skip his last day of school. It’s not like he’s really missing anything anyway.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This time he manages to get all the way to Derek’s loft before the panic starts to set in. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What if it’s been too long? What if Derek hates him? This is all a complete mistake</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After sitting in his Jeep for about ten minutes, running through all the wild thoughts in his head, Stiles takes a deep breath and takes that dive.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He knocks on Derek’s door. At first, he thinks that Derek isn’t home, but then he hears voices. Stiles has an itching to lean closer and listen in, but a little nudge at the back of his mind tells him otherwise.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Just as he is about to raise his hand to knock on the door once more it slides open. Out walks a deputy from his father’s station. Stiles has seen this guy around before. He thinks his name is Parrish but he’s not sure. And the deputy is gone before Stiles can glance at his nameplate. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles’ confusion must be evident on his face because Derek suddenly fills in some blanks. “Deputy Parrish was just asking me to help out on a case. Supernatural creature to supernatural creature.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Derek then steps aside, a clear message that Stiles can come inside.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles moves about the loft not sitting as he thinks over the words Derek said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Supernatural creature to supernatural creature?” Stiles looks to Derek, thoroughly confused and starting to panic. He thought that werewolves were the only supers he had to worry about.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Parrish is a hellhound.” Derek supplies with no indication of concern for Stiles’ slight panic.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A hellhound?!” Stiles practically screams.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stiles. Calm down. It’s not a bad thing. He’s sworn to protect this town.” Derek reaches out to touch Stiles, but he moves away towards the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles grabs a drink of water before he replies. “I get that as a deputy he’s sworn to protect the town, but aren’t hellhounds creatures of HELL? A decidedly bad place?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“In a way. Hellhounds are sworn to protect the supernatural. They don’t bother humans unless they threaten that safety.” Derek gives Stiles a soft look. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The silence that falls between them is slightly awkward but mostly comfortable. Derek must sense Stiles’ rising panic because he slowly comes to Stiles’ side and stays close without touching. It’s like Derek is trying to anchor Stiles to the ground. All the while acknowledging Stiles’ need for space in his panic.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t we sit down and watch a Marvel movie?” Derek finally says, motioning his head towards his couch and entertainment center.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You hate Marvel,” Stiles mutters without any thought. After speaking he wonders where that information came from. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Derek chuckles slightly and gives a crooked smile. “But you love them and you are about 2.5 seconds away from a mental overload.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles sits down, far from Derek, and silently appreciates the older man. Despite what his father, Lydia, and Scott have all said about Derek, Stiles finds himself trusting him. There is evidence abound that Derek loves everyone, but since the love isn’t a grand gesture most people miss it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles doesn’t. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He sees it in the way that Derek never pushes. He knows what Stiles needs to return to a state of normalcy during a panic attack. Most of all, Derek never once tells Stiles information about himself that could be leading or biased. In fact, the only information Derek does reveal is about the world </span>
  <em>
    <span>around</span>
  </em>
  <span> him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles also sees the love Derek has for others in the way that he understands each person individually and remembers things about them. He knows how to handle each person and what level or tone will take things too far. It’s a truly remarkable gift. One of an alpha Stiles has realized.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My father thinks I should visit my mother,” Stiles states suddenly as Tony Stark boasts about a technological advancement on the tv screen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Derek motions to mute the tv. He doesn’t respond right away. As if he is thinking about the best way to do so.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?” He turns slightly to show Stiles he is attentive and engaged.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Something about me graduating and how she’d want to know.” Stiles shrugs and picks at his fingers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I take it you don’t quite agree.” Derek’s tone is soft and lacking in emotion.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not that I don’t agree. It’s that I don’t see the point in talking to a big rock representative of someone I don’t know.” Stiles still doesn’t look directly at Derek, but Derek can feel his gaze all the same.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Who knows. Maybe that rock could end up helping you. Unlock something.” Derek gives a smile of reassurance.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If I go, would you go with me? I don’t want to go alone.” Stiles’ voice is small and scared.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Derek nods.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Without another word, Stiles reaches across the divide and holds onto Derek’s hand. They watch the rest of the movie like that. Never moving closer together but, never fully apart.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At graduation, Stiles sits in his seat shaking his leg nervously. His name is S, which means he has to sit through 2/3s of the alphabet before walking across the stage.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Scott and Lydia’s names get called Stiles hears a smattering of applause. At the last second, he joins in. Something inside him tells him it is the right thing to do.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The start of his row finally stands up to go and Stiles stands up. He isn’t sure why his card says Mieczyslaw but he assumes that’s his birth name. Since the principal seems to know him really well, Stiles hopes he will ignore the Polish name and go with Stiles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stiles Stilinski”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles breathes a sigh of relief and steps up to the stage. After this moment, he is free. He will no longer have to walk the halls and pretend to know all that happened there over four years. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As he walks across the stage he hears a few people clapping for him. He looks up and sees his father cheering, crying, and clapping all at once. Next to him stands an equally emotional Melissa McCall. The shocking face in the crowd is the one to the left of McCall.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Derek Hale is softly clapping, his face stoic as always. However, his eyes are shining with what can only be described as pride. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles had invited him but he hadn’t actually expected him to show.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles sits back down with a small grin on his face. He tunes out the rest of the names in favor of thinking about how beautiful Derek looked in the midday sun. The sun shone down on him in a way that makes his skin shimmer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kind of like an angel. Ironic considering Derek is a werewolf which is notorious for being very non-angelic in nature.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This leads him to thoughts of Derek at his most relaxed. The moment had come a few days ago when they’d been watching Iron Man together. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Stiles was starting to get comfortable with sitting next to Derek. As they watch the movie he finds himself resisting an urge to voice strong opinions.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tony is a truly selfish man masking himself as altruistic via Iron Man. He does it all for the recognition.” Stiles rolls his eyes and huffs in a slightly annoyed manner.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Wait, Iron Man is Marvel, right? So doesn’t that mean you like him?” Derek looks towards Stiles thoroughly confused.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Do all wolves love the woods all the time?” Stiles volleys back with a laughing grin.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I hate you,” Derek growls in fake annoyance. His eyes alight with mischief.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re just mad because I answered your stupid question with one of my own. Oh, beautiful, sheltered alpha.” Stiles laughs out loud and leans into Derek’s body.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Derek starts to huff in frustration and irritation but turns it into a belly laugh within seconds.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Stiles laughs along and finds the loom of anxiety around him disappears completely. For the first time since coming back, Stiles feels entirely complete.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles is brought back to the present by a sudden touch to his shoulder. He flails defensively before realizing it is only Scott. The tension loosens a bit but, doesn’t completely leave his body. He remains on his guard as he focuses on the here and now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He realizes that the students around him have either gotten up and left or are standing around chatting. The official ceremonies must have ended. Then in an instant, everything starts to change.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles feels the air around him get tight. Scott, Kira, and Lydia are too close and crowding him. He can’t breathe. But he also can’t figure out why this is happening. He’s been fine the whole duration of commencement. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He needs an escape. He needs to move. At this moment, the unknown is so demanding of him that he can’t figure out which way to be.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With sharp movements, Stiles stands up. He begins to push his way through the mess of students around him. He’s so focused on finding clean air that he doesn’t initially notice the figure following him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not until he’s in the parking lot that he slows down. Leaning against his father’s car, he hunches over to try and block everything out. The air is easier to breathe now and Stiles takes a few huge gulps of it. With each inhale he focuses his mind a little more. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After about four times he can stand up straight. His mind is no longer spinning. He doesn’t feel overwhelmed and ready to run. The constrictions, he had just felt, melt away. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That’s when he sees his dad. At that moment he would give anything to take the concern out of his father’s eyes. It kills him to know he is the cause of it. Ever since he’s come back his father dons that look 9 times out of 10.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dad. I’m ok. See just fine. Breathing is normal.” Stiles gives an attempt at reassurance but with his slightly labored breathing, it falls flat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So you ran away because you’re fine?” The Sheriff gives a raised eyebrow look and crosses his arms. It’s clear he isn’t buying it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“More like I can’t stand the pressure of these kinds of events. I don’t know how else to explain it. You’ve never been walking around as this person you barely know, feeling like you’re stealing someone else’s life.” Stiles sighs and turns slightly away from his dad.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I wish there was something I could do to erase that pressure.” Sheriff Stilinski leans forward and places a hand gently on Stiles’ shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles doesn’t respond, he just relaxes a bit more and reaches up to cover his father’s hand with his own. Their eyes meet and a moment of love and understanding passes between them. Stiles wishes it could be like this all the time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I’m gonna go see mom. Maybe that’ll help in some way.” Stiles finally says, moving away from his father and breaking their brief eye contact.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll go with you.” A voice says suddenly from beyond Stiles. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He turns, knowing without looking that it is Derek. The soft cadence of his voice sends shockwaves through Stiles’ body. A certain excitement and peace co-mingle in a way that makes Stiles feel like he knows exactly who he is. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d like that.” Stiles and his father utter at the same moment. The action causes Stiles to turn towards his father and smile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles drives silently towards the cemetery. The more he drives the more anxious he gets. It’s not anxiety about Derek being there; no it’s more about Derek seeing him fail. He hopes that being at his mother’s grave will help him to remember something about her. However, he also knows that so far nothing else he’s tried to remember Stiles Stilinski of the past has worked. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He currently has a positive relationship with Derek where neither of them has been disappointed. Sure Stiles has had multiple panic attacks in front of the big guy, but that didn’t seem to fall under the same level as failing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, Stiles feels Derek grab his hand. The two exchange a quick glance and a silent smile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s wrong? You reek of anxiety.” Derek squeezes Stiles’ hand and rubs his thumb across the younger teen’s knuckles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you stop doing that?” Stiles asks, buying himself time to figure out how to answer Derek’s question.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Derek whispers and takes his hand away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean that,” Stiles replies. He turns into the cemetery before grabbing Derek’s hand again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He puts the Jeep in park and cuts the engine. He sits just staring at all the graves laid out before them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What if I look at her grave and nothing happens? What if it doesn’t help my memory at all?” Stiles breaks the silence after about five minutes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I answer that without you jumping down my throat for being honest?” Derek tentatively asks, giving Stiles’s hand another squeeze.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles simply nods. Taking a deep breath to steel himself for whatever blow of honesty Derek is about to hit him with.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You always talk about this pressure others put on you to perform, to be Stiles. I don’t think you realize that the pressure is entirely your own. You want so badly to know who you are so you let yourself believe that everyone else wants something more from you. Why can’t you just live in the moment? Stop trying and you will succeed.” Derek finishes with a tone so soft Stiles wonders if he actually heard anything at all. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Regardless, the words are pounding in Stiles’ brain and he can hear nothing else. He feels such irrational anger towards Derek that he needs to be away from him. He yanks his hand out of Derek’s and jumps out of the cab before Derek can stop him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He feels hot tears on his cheek as he angrily stomps towards the tree by which his mother is buried. How dare he think that Stiles is putting this pressure on himself? Doesn’t he see how much everyone expects out of him? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He stumbles to a stop in front of a slightly weathered grave. The stone is opaquely black with flecks of white and grey. It’s beautiful in its simplicity. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles squats down and runs his fingers over the words etched into the stone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>CLAUDIA STILINSKI</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>1971 - 2006</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>BELOVED WIFE AND MOTHER</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, mom. I’m having a bit of trouble remembering you. I was hoping that coming to see you would help. That I’d suddenly remember the close bond we once shared. So far I feel nothing. So if you could give me a nudge that’d be really great. Think of it as my graduation gift.” Stiles chuckles a bit at the end, before sniffling. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A twig snaps behind him and before Stiles can turn to see who made the noise, a soft hand lands on his shoulder. He has a moment to recognize that it is Derek’s hand before his vision goes dark.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A scene flashes before his eyes, making the cemetery disappear entirely. He stares out at a scene of horror and dismay. Laying on the floor, of what Stiles recognizes as Derek’s loft, is a lifeless body. It is laying in what appears to be an inch of water. Stiles watches as a version of himself steps forward slowly to grasp the shoulder of a hunched figure near the lifeless body. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>In Stiles’ chest, he feels an overwhelming sense of anguish and hurt. The name Boyd rushes to the surface along with memories of a happy, smiling teen. The scene in the loft doesn’t disappear it merely fades to make room for the memories of a tall, dark young man named Boyd.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>At that moment, Stiles realizes that Boyd is the young man on the floor. He is a friend of Stiles’. He is now dead. The hunched figure on the floor is feeling undeniable amounts of pain. When the man looks up, Stiles is shocked to see that it is Derek.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Stiles remembers vaguely that Derek is Boyd’s alpha and that Boyd was killed accidentally on purpose. He can’t remember the finer details but he is certain about what he does remember. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles jerks back to the present and Derek’s hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t know what brought about the memory but he has a feeling that it wasn’t a coincidence that it happened while visiting his mom. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles turns to face Derek. His face is laced with worry and doubt. Without even asking, Stiles knows that Derek regrets how he handled their previous encounter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened to Boyd?” Stiles finally utters, his voice unable to reach a volume higher than a whisper.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Derek is clearly taken aback.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Boyd. I just remembered the moment in your loft where he was laying there dead and you were crouched on the floor near him crying. I was there too. Trying to comfort you.” Stiles responds, choosing to act as if his first real big memory was no big deal.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I killed him,” Derek responds shortly. He gets up and starts to walk away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles is stunned by Derek’s sudden shutdown. Then he is scrambling to get up and catch Derek.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Derek! Wait!” Stiles catches up to Derek and grabs him by the arm to spin him around. “Why are you walking away?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This is the moment you start to hate me. It happened before. It was bound to happen again.” Derek doesn’t even look Stiles in the eye.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t believe you are a cold-blooded killer.” Stiles digs his heels in defiantly and crosses his arms. “I’ve gotten to know you these past few weeks. If you were a cold-blooded killer you would’ve been a hell of a lot meaner.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah well, people aren’t always who you think they are. Maybe you should walk away while you still can.” Derek replies as he turns and continues walking away. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This time Stiles doesn’t even try to stop him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Two days. It’s been two days since the key to Stiles’ memories was discovered. Two days and nothing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Derek Fucking Hale is the key to everything and he’s disappeared.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles went by his loft a few hours after the incident at the cemetery. He’s also been back by a few times a day ever since. Each time Derek is gone. It’s like he ran away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles needs him just to make sense of the memory of Boyd that keeps playing over and over in his head. He doesn’t understand how or why. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wants to. So bad.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then on the third day, Scott comes over to visit. They haven’t spoken since graduation. Once Scott is standing in front of him, Stiles feels guilty about not addressing his anxiety issues with the young werewolf. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Scott has been around through it all. When Stiles needed space Scott, like a true friend, gave it to him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry I haven’t spoken to you since graduation,” Stiles mutters nervously.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s ok. Your dad told me you’ve been going through a rough few days so I thought I’d give you some space.” Scott is a constant reminder of what Stiles has in this world that is good.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks. You didn’t have to.” Stiles looks at his friend and for the first time feels a sense of connection. Like Scott is really his friend and has been his whole life.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No worries. I actually came over to see if you wanted to play the new zombie game with me.” Scott holds up a video game and gives a simple shrug.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles merely nods and moves to set up the gaming console. He needs the distraction. Who knows maybe hanging out with Scott again could do him some good.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The two young men play video games without a word, beyond the usual exclamations of being in the moment. At some point, both of them accuses the other of cheating somehow. They even make movements to distract or thwart the continued success of the other.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Their actions are the most natural Stiles has been a part of since he can remember. Through it all, he feels a sense of familiarity. It isn’t until Scott burps and pauses the game that Stiles remembers something.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Once again Stiles is transported to a scene where he is a part of the action but also on the periphery. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The scene is in this very living room, but there are more people. It’s Stiles, Scott, Lydia, a dark-haired girl Stiles doesn’t recognize, and a curly-haired blonde boy. They are all laughing and goofing off.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Stiles is grabbing at Scott’s shirt to stop him from running around the room with what appears to be a controller. Scott is turned towards Stiles and laughing. It is the most innocent Stiles has ever seen him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The girls are squealing and laughing on the couch as the blonde boy lobs popcorn at them with a devilish grin.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mercy! Isaac! Mercy!” the dark-haired girl squeals before tugging the blonde boy onto her lap and kissing him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lydia rolls her eyes in fake protest, her actual feelings revealed only through her soft gaze and ear to ear smile. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Scott. I swear to god! Give me the controller! It’s not a fair fight if I can’t fight against you.” Stiles from the memory has now tackled Scott to the ground and is grabbing at his arm to get the device.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Admit that I’m a better player even without werewolf abilities and I will give it to you.” Scott laughs before jumping up, ultimately tossing Stiles gently aside.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I thought this was supposed to be a pack meeting. Where is our fearless leader anyway?” Lydia grumps suddenly.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“He got held up. At the sheriff station.” Stiles chimes in, using the momentary moment of distraction to grab the controller out of Scott’s hand.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Everyone stops and turns to Stiles. They all wear a look of shock on their face.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What? My dad texted me to apologize for holding Hale up. He said Hale was providing valuable information about these sacrifices.” Stiles shrugs, oblivious to all the knowing looks that are shared between peers over his head.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Uh-huh.” Scott and Lydia intone. Scott plopping down on the couch next to Stiles and resuming their game.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Scott comes back from grabbing a drink and snaps his fingers at Stiles. It pulls Stiles out of his memory and he glances up at Scott speechless.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Where did you go just now?” Scott asks, holding a bottle of water towards his friend.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you promise not to freak out?” Stiles asks. Then he takes a big gulp of water.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhhh” Scott looks at his friend very concerned.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve been having little snippets of memory pop up randomly lately. It started after graduation when I went to visit my mom.” Stiles leans forward and grips both hands onto his water bottle as if it’s a lifeline.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A silence falls between the two friends. It isn’t awkward or loud, just comfortable.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Big memories or little ones?” Scott finally asks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I remembered Boyd’s death, though I’m still not entirely sure all the details on that one. Nor am I entirely sure who Boyd is. I’ve also remembered little things like my dad sitting at the kitchen table drunk in his funeral clothes after my mom died. Things like that.” Stiles explains, still not looking at Scott but feeling his eyes on him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you remember just now?” Scott is gentle in his delivery of the questions and genuinely interested, no pressure to perform anywhere to be found.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I remembered a night where you and I were playing video games and playfully fighting. Lydia was here too. There was a blonde guy. I think his name is Isaac. And some dark-haired girl I don’t know. Probably Isaac’s girlfriend since they kissed. We were waiting on Derek for a pack meeting. Probably to discuss some kind of sacrifice.” Stiles looks at his best friend as he ends his monologue retelling. He wants desperately for Scott to help him find any answers he can.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Allison,” Scott says, his tone suddenly withdrawn and sad.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Who is Allison?” Stiles asks. He makes sure to keep his slight frustration at bay. He doesn’t want to scare away Scott like he did Derek.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Allison Argent. She was our friend. She died about a year ago. A victim to the curse that is this town.” Scott stands up and walks over to the mantle. There are clusters of pictures there that Stiles refuses to look at. They are all pictures of people he’s supposed to know intimately but doesn’t anymore.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Scott gingerly touches one of them and brings it down towards him. Stiles can’t be sure, but he thinks his friend is crying. So, he gets up and quietly approaches Scott.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sure enough the closer he gets the more obvious it is that Scott is crying.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry I don’t remember. I’m sorry she’s gone. I feel like these memories aren’t worth remembering.” Stiles mutters as he reaches out a hand and wraps it around Scott’s shoulder in a comforting embrace.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You deserve to know them too Stiles. They were great people.” Scott sobs, handing the photo to Stiles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In it, he sees Boyd, Allison, a blonde bombshell girl, Scott, Lydia, himself, Derek, and the kid who is supposedly Isaac. They only seem semi-happy to be there together. From the looks of the surrounding background, they were at a picnic of some sort.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Two summers ago, your dad got it in his head that all our problems - my break up with Allison and our mutual rivalry with Derek’s pack - could be solved with a simple get together barbeque. I was happy to be around Allison but, she was miserable and only spoke to Lydia the whole time we were there. You ran your mouth like always, annoying the crap out of Isaac and Derek within five minutes. Boyd and Erica, the blonde girl, were too worried about fitting in that they didn’t dare say anything. In short, it was a disaster.” Scott starts to smile through his tears.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How can you stand to think about them when they are dead?” Stiles asks, his eyes fixed on the elder of the group. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What was so bad about Derek that he would think Stiles should steer clear?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Does it hurt? Of course. However, they are a big part of who I am. I’m the Alpha I am because of Allison, and eventually Boyd, Erica, and Isaac. They may all be gone now - some dead, some just moved away - but to not think about them would be an insult to their memory.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Allison was the first big love of my life. My first anchor. She shaped me in ways no one else can or ever will. People like that deserve to be remembered, even if we cry a little doing it.” Scott finishes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He grabs the picture from Stiles and puts it back on the mantle.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you answer me one more question?” Stiles asks, gravitating back to the couch.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe.” Scott follows him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why is it that Derek, the one who’s been my true north this whole time, runs away the minute I start to remember?” Stiles fiddles with his controller’s joystick, scared to know the answer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s scared. You don’t remember this but, Derek used to be entirely closed off to any emotions and human contact when we first met him in his woods. Being around our group and his own betas slowly started to chip at his walls. He’s scared that you’ll find out his weaknesses and think less of him.” Scott sighs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But why does my opinion of him even matter?” Stiles asks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s the real question, isn’t it.” Scott’s reply is cryptic. He turns the game back on before Stiles can decipher it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The two once more play in silence punctuated only by screams of frustration.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Over the next few weeks, Stiles works hard on figuring out the best way to approach Derek again. He spends his days working for the local library. He finds comfort in knowing his knowledge about random information is a help to someone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It also helped with collecting himself now that memories were starting to come back to him. Being a librarian was so low key that he barely had to think or process anything during the day. Beacon Hills was such a small town that he only got maybe 100 people per day come through the doors. Not all of them needed his assistance either.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Only about half of the people who came in ever actually checked anything out or asked him to look something up for them. When he tells Scott about his job he catches a glimmer of doubt cross the werewolf’s face before he excitedly encourages him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stiles! That is great! It’ll really help you find focus and purpose in your life now.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles doesn’t say it but, he thinks that maybe the old him would’ve gone crazy working a job as inactive and boring as the library. Nevertheless, this job helps keep him calm and anxiety-free. It also lends him time to really dig for more information on Derek Hale.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Intel isn’t too personal but, is informative about his current actions. Things like talking about his weekly trips to the farmer’s market with Mrs. Golden who runs a butter stand there every week. The sweet, elderly woman loves Derek because he buys products from her each week even if he doesn’t really need anything. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She tells Stiles about how she sees him do the same thing with other stands as well. He is genuinely a nice person, despite what some of the community members whisper behind his back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Statements like that go unresponded to by Stiles but stored in the back of his mind for use at a later time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s on one particularly slow Wednesday afternoon that Stiles asks his boss if he can duck out early and goes to find his father. He intends to see if the sheriff can spare a few minutes to go and get something to eat with him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Driving across town is still strange to him, but now it’s more because it’s starting to become known to him. He recognizes locations because of memories he has instead of just recognizing them from having seen them multiple times.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Sheriff Station is unusually dead and quiet when Stiles pulls into a slot and parks. Barely any of the cruisers are there and no one appears to be in the lobby. Stiles gets an uneasy feeling in his gut but chooses to ignore it until he can know for sure what is going on.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles opens the front door, the bell echoes in the quiet lobby. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The lobby is empty. Stiles can feel Derek’s unease from right beside him. The werewolf’s teeth are threatening to expose his nature to the wrong people.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The front desk deputy walks up and Derek manages to reel himself in time to seduce her and distract her from her job.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Stiles rolls his eyes because there is no way Derek should be allowed to do that. A smile like that should be illegal. That’s the real reason the cops arrested him, not because he killed his sister but because everything about him is criminal.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Stiles rolls his eyes and uses the opportunity to sneak past them and into the holding cells. He manages to get past the guard trying to kill Isaac. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Stiles is unable to stop Isaac before the full moon takes hold of him. He’s backed up to a corner when Derek comes in. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Derek’s Alpha growl is like nothing Stiles has ever seen before. It sends chills down his spine; scaring and exciting him all at once. Up to this point, he knew that his best friend was a werewolf, but Derek the werewolf is something totally different. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Stiles has never had these kinds of feelings for a guy before. Maybe that’s because his focus has been entirely on Lydia for the past few years. It could also be because he’s never had someone new like Derek come busting all angry like into his life. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles shakes out of his memory at the sound of Karen greeting him from behind the desk. He smiles at her and motions a wave. Without a word, he moves towards his father’s office. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Looking around at all his surroundings, and recognizing everything, Stiles wonders how he ever could have forgotten this. This place feels like home and love. Togetherness. Family.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Before walking into his father’s office, he stands and watches the Sheriff work. The look on his face is stern with concentration. Suddenly, something he’s read must upset him because his whole demeanor changes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stilinski leans back in his chair and gives a huge sigh. He rubs his eyes and a huge sadness comes over him. The image flashes Stiles to a similar look almost eight years prior. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Little Stiles sees his father at the kitchen table. It’s the middle of the night and his mom’s funeral had been hours ago. Yet, his father still sits there in his suit and tie. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The bottle of Whiskey on the table is now almost empty. When he’d gone to bed it had been half full. Even at 9, Stiles knows that this much drinking isn’t good.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Stiles has seen this memory before. However, this time he is more than just observing, he is emotionally connected.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The sadness permeates the whole room. Stiles wishes he could somehow take that away. But he knows it’s because of his mom, and that is something he can’t fix.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, son! How long you been standing there?” His father’s voice is suddenly right next to him and Stiles snaps out of his memory. Two in one day was more than he’d dealt with so far. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He stares blankly at his father for what seems like forever. The image of him grieving the death of his mom is not one Stiles will ever forget, hopefully. The sadness is still in his father’s eyes, but this time it’s slightly different. It’s not a love sadness, it’s something else.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles can’t quite put his finger on it, but he’s sure he holds a key to fixing it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s up, Dad? You look worried or something.” Stiles pushes his memory to the back of his mind and tackles the current issue head-on.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s nothing you need to worry about.” His father shuts him down quickly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on Dad! You don’t carry that look very often and when you do it’s nothing good!” Stiles finds himself practically screaming at his dad.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know too much sometimes.” His dad shakes his head. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow, that’s something I never thought I’d hear.” Stiles chuckles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah well, some things never change.” Sheriff Stilinski shrugs his shoulders, “I’m just a little concerned about Derek. We were working on a case together before he dropped off the face of the earth.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I haven’t seen him in weeks, not since my graduation. I had my first major memory breakthrough that day and he freaked out. I’m sure that freak out is the reason he turned tail and ran.” Stiles responds with a shrug of his shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought he was past all that. Old habits die hard I guess.” Sheriff Stilinski mumbles before he seems to wake up and realize his son came to visit, not discuss police business.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So what brings you over here this time of day? Shouldn’t you be working?” He completely switches gears to turn the focus to his son.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I took off a bit early to see if you wanted to spend some good ole quality time with me,” Stiles responds. He decides to not push his dad on the Derek issue right now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I’ve really got a lot on my plate right now.” The sheriff stalls and puts on a good show of wanting to turn him down, but Stiles knows he’s hooked him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dad. Just hand the reins over to Parrish and call it a day. You work way too hard.” Stiles gently goads him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I work hard because someone needs to protect this town.” His Dad continues to evade.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Parrish is a hellhound which is THE definition of protector. Let’s go.” Stiles grabs his father’s arm and leads him towards the door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Parrish! I’m out for the day. Keep me updated if anything happens.” Sheriff Stilinski barks over his shoulder as they walk through the door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The two Stilinskis take Stiles’ Jeep for a drive. The elder doesn’t question his son about where they are going. He trusts that his son wouldn’t take him anywhere too far away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once they turn off the highway just outside of town, he knows that he is right. He has to swallow big, when he realizes where they are, just to keep from tearing up. In the recesses of his mind, Stilinski remembers a time, a dozen or so years ago, when he would frequent this establishment on the regular.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Mischief Moon</span>
  </em>
  <span> looks just as it did the last time the sheriff stepped foot inside. After Claudia got sick she transferred complete ownership of the little cafe to her partner, Sierra Frank. Sierra and Claudia had been friends all through school. After she died, Sierra and the sheriff lost touch.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stiles. What are we doing here?” Stilinski chokes back his emotions to give his son a chance to explain.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Derek brought me here once when I got overwhelmed at school and needed a break. I love how small and quiet it is. Calms me down. Plus the sandwiches are killer.” Stiles replies, suspiciously not looking his father in the eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” Sheriff Stilinski’s unspoken words hang in the air between them like a wall.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The two walk into the cafe. A bell above the door tinkles as they push it open. Stiles breathes in the atmosphere and smiles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“John?!” A voice from the left gets Stiles’ attention. The woman is tan-skinned, her hair is dark and streaked with grey.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles’ father turns toward the voice and Stiles sees him tear up a little. The two know each other on a semi-intimate level.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sierra. What’s it been? 12 years?” John replies, his voice a bit choked but also filled with fondness.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“More like 10. You trying to add years to us?” Sierra replies with a small chuckle and directs them towards a table.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This fine young man must be Stiles. He has her face and eyes. There’s no mistaking it.” Sierra turns to address Stiles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. He’s all grown now. Just graduated in fact.” John smiles at Stiles, giving him a look that says to just play along.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my! It can’t be!” Sierra gives Stiles a look that he can only describe as motherly. “You haven’t been here since you were small, but I bet you still love chocolate peanut butter brownies.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that even a question?” Stiles jokes with a natural smile that puts his father at ease.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Anything else I can get you guys? On the house. After all, you still partially own the place.” Sierra touches John’s shoulder ever so briefly and John gives her a sad smile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll both take one of your tuna clubs and coffee.” Stiles steps in and breaks apart the sadness that had settled, it unnerved him. He still felt like an outsider with privy to intimate personal struggles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sierra snaps her head towards Stiles and also gives him a sad smile. “I’ll get those right out to you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A silence falls between the two. John is desperately avoiding the elephant in the room and Stiles wants to ask but doesn’t know where to start.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dad?” Stiles starts, reaching across the table towards his father.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm.” John doesn’t lookup. He continues to just stare at his faded wedding band that remains on his finger.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That woman. The owner. She said you still partially own this place. What does she mean?” Stiles braces himself for the answer that is coming.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your mom.” John starts and then he pauses. Stiles is anxious to know the story but he also knows he can’t push his father. “Before you were born she opened this cafe with her best friend.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There is a slight pause again before he continues. “When she got sick and then died I transferred complete ownership over to Sierra, but she says I still unofficially have a stake in it should I ever want it. I haven’t been able to step foot in this place since she got sick. Reminds me too much of her.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sierra chooses that moment to return with their coffees. She doesn’t say a word, merely smiles before stepping away once more. The two silently add cream and sugar to their coffees before continuing their conversation.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. I’m sorry. Derek didn’t tell me that when he brought me here. He just said he loved the place because it was quiet and homey. He also mentioned that Laura used to work here in high school so he became addicted to the brownies years ago.” Stiles gives his father a genuine look of apology and sympathy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I wish it held the same level of love and reverence for me.” He adds before looking down at the design on the table. It was rustic wood accentuated with random marks to give it “character.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll get there. The memories have only just started to come back.” John reaches over the divide and grabs his son’s hand. “I know I say this a lot, but give it time. Be patient.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s just it. I can’t keep up with it anymore. The pressure to perform is even greater now that everyone knows I’m starting to remember. I thought that once the memories started coming back I would feel less anxious. That everyone would back off a bit.” Stiles gives a huge sigh and leans back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What exactly are you saying?” John’s voice is on edge. The fear of the unknown has him glued to his son like never before.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I need to get away from Beacon Hills for a while. Just get my bearings back on my life. Find a purpose that I’ve made, not something others have told me I’d do.” Stiles knows that his words are going to cut his father deep. But he doesn’t let that stop him from trudging on.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I got accepted at Penn State and I think I’m gonna accept. I want to explore my options with psychology or criminal justice and I think Penn is a good place for that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“UCLA is also a good school. It’s away from Beacon Hills but not so far you can’t come up on the weekends. I know they accepted you too.” John gently rebukes his son’s proposal.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s just it. Scott is going to UCLA and I need to escape all that. I know Pennsylvania is on the other side of the country but I can truly reinvent myself there. Please, dad. Understand that I’m doing this for me.” Stiles gives his father an imploring look; begging him to bless the decision.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t say I’m happy with it. I don’t think you need to escape to the other side of the country just to reinvent yourself. You can’t just run away, Stiles.” The air between them suddenly thickens with hurt and anger.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not running away. I’m running towards something.” Stiles replies. No more is said between them as Sierra returns with their food.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They eat in silence. Stiles anxiously going over possible things he could say to ease his father’s hurt. He realizes there is nothing. His father wants him to stay and Stiles knows he needs to leave. There isn’t really a middle ground at the present.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just promise me you’ll inform Derek. He’s really been there for you these last few months. It’s the least he deserves.” John finally breaks the silence with his version of acceptance. It isn’t complete acceptance but it’ll do.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles smiles at his plate in reply.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>By the end of the summer, Derek has made a reappearance in Beacon Hills, but Stiles still hasn’t gone to speak with him. Not out of fear for Derek, but out of sadness for the closing of that door. He knows moving to Pennsylvania is going to change everything, which is exactly what he wants. However, a part of him wants to cling tightly to the bond he has created with Derek. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The day before he is to leave town Stiles finally plucks up the courage to visit Derek. He doesn’t know what to expect but he does know that no matter what he needs to say goodbye to the wolf. Derek was there for him during the most confusing parts of his amnesia and gave him the confidence to open up about his struggles to Scott and his dad.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The loft doesn’t look any different than it did the last time Stiles had visited, nearly 2 months ago. He puts his Jeep in park and taking a deep breath he climbs out. Every instinct in his body is telling him to run away and don’t look back, but his heart is pulling him ever closer. Once at the top floor, he reaches out and tentatively knocks on the door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Derek that opens the door isn’t quite like Stiles has imagined. He figured Derek would look the same he always did: gruff and stand-offish with elegance to his attire. Instead, the werewolf before him looks frazzled, frumpy. As if he just rolled out of bed and wasn’t expecting anyone to be at his door. He dons a slightly confused face that eases into shock as he registers Stiles’ presence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“St-Stiles. What are you doing here?” Derek’s shocked tone is vulnerable and broken.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you not want me to be here?” Stiles responds with a question of his own.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What? No! I just figured you gave up on me.” Derek looks as though he is trying to decide how he feels.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You kind of ran off there buddy. I had no choice but to wait.” Stiles gives a smile in the vain hope that it’ll ease the awkwardness between them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I came back two weeks ago. I asked your dad about you and asked him to let you know I was back. Then nothing until now.” Derek moves aside and motions for Stiles to come in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, he told me. I’m sorry. I was afraid that it had been too long and that it would be awkward. So I waited. And now I believe I’ve made it worse.” Stiles says as he enters the familiar loft.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Too long for what?” Stiles steals a glance at Derek as he speaks and sees the glimmer of hope in his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“For us. I know we haven’t done much more than a stolen kiss and a major freak out on my part. But, before you turned tail and ran I felt like something was brewing. Now I feel like our moment has passed.” Stiles explains, giving Derek a sad look.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So you came all this way to tell me in person that we have no chance at a relationship? You could’ve just texted me, Stiles!” Derek’s mood turns immediately to frustration and hurt.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I came to tell you that I’m leaving for school tomorrow and I wanted us to clear the air.” Stiles’ own frustration is mounting as he paces the floor.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks for telling me. You can leave.” Derek’s response is cold and final. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles refuses to let it go. Instead, he steps closer to Derek, crowding him in. “That’s all you have to say? After everything, we went through? Everything I went through? You know what? You deserve your loneliness!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not lonely! I’m protective of myself because everyone always leaves. It’s inevitable.” Derek growls as he grabs Stiles's shoulders and pushes him up against the door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles’ breaths come in gasps and he takes a small moment to catch his bearings before throwing caution to the wind. He surges forward and connects his mouth with Derek’s. His hands find Derek’s hair and grab on for dear life.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Derek responds by grabbing Stiles’ hips and connecting their bodies even more. All the while their lips never lose contact with one another. Their kiss is greedy and hungry. All the pain and hurt and confusion of the last few months are thrown into their desperate kiss. They only break apart momentarily to catch their breath. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The two stare into each other’s eyes as their chests heave against one another in desperate attempts at getting air into their lungs. Stiles rests his cheek upon Derek’s and starts to nuzzle him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“About that.” Stiles looks back at Derek and breaks the silence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Derek doesn’t respond, instead, he looks at Stiles imploringly. Once Stiles gives him a nod he leads them towards his bed. It’s a major step and Stiles gets hard just thinking about Derek inside him. Part of him thinks he shouldn’t do this considering he leaves tomorrow. The other, stronger part, tells the first part to shut up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once in the room, Stiles’ nerves hit him hardcore. He’s never done this before. What if he fails spectacularly?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I-I’ve never done this before.” Stiles finally admits barely above a whisper.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We can stop,” Derek replies. Then seeing Stiles shake his head he reaches out and lovingly grabs his arm, “don’t worry I’ll take care of you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And he did.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The entire time Derek went slow and questioned Stiles at every step, to ensure his continued pleasure and desire.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When they were done the two lay next to each other on the bed. Derek stole glances at Stiles, but the bubbling guilt prevented Stiles from returning the gesture.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That was—” Stiles starts but finds himself unable to finish.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mind-blowing. Perfect. Worth the wait. Take your pick.” Derek’s reply is sleepy and content.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The two lay in complete silence for a few minutes. The joy of what just transpired gives way to sadness as Stiles remembers he is still moving to Pennsylvania tomorrow.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His thoughts turn to what they would do moving forward. Derek and he would try long distance for a while before eventually giving in to the destruction of being apart most of the time. It’s better for both of them if they don’t start something they know will eventually fail.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This doesn’t change anything.” Stiles sighs, breaking the happy silence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Doesn’t it though?” Derek rolls onto his side facing Stiles, who’s still on his back, and traces shapes onto the teen’s stomach.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m still leaving tomorrow. No matter how much we may want this we can’t have it.” Stiles turns his head slightly to give Derek a forlorn look.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not like Pennsylvania is on another planet. We can call and I can visit.” Derek tries, even though he knows Stiles well enough to know that once his mind is made up there’s no stopping him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And that will be fine. For a few months. It’s better to nip this in the bud to avoid hurt feelings.” Stiles sits up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you think this is something we should’ve discussed before we had sex?” Derek points out, hiding the fact that he’s feeling used. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Stiles begins as he gets up and gathers his clothing, “I didn’t come here expecting to have sex with you! I came to say goodbye.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe you should go then.” Derek refuses to look at Stiles for fear his hurt would be detectable.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe I should,” Stiles whispers as he quietly puts his clothes back on and leaves the loft. Not another word is said between the two men.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I would very much appreciate any feedback you can give me. Kudos and comments give me life!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>